Pokémon in the Office
by Anonymous1O1
Summary: There are loads of high school fics out there, so much so that it's become cliché. But what about office fics? Have you ever wondered what it'd be like to work with Ash, Misty, Brock, and the rest of 'em? Welcome to Death Row, a place where no one escapes clean. Bring your spray paint and your Nerf guns, because things are 'bout to get crazy.
1. Introductions & BANANAS

**Welcome to Pokémon in the Office! The original summer stories I was planning on writing turned into this... So yeah. I was thinking about how many high school fics are out there when this idea came to me. There will be NO Pokémon in this story, only humans. OOC-ness will likely be present in this fic, but remember that this is meant to be a lighthearted story. Also, this will be the only chapter that has A/N that will ever be posted outside of the actual story. All future A/Ns will be posted in a form that I believe is rather unique this story that will require some thinking and interpreting on your part. This will be a short chapter because it's introductory. The rest will be longer. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Pokémon or anything else you recognize. Credit goes to Satoshi Tajiri, Game Freak, and Nintendo for Pokémon. Credit for everything else goes to their respective owner(s).**

* * *

 _Monday, November 18th, 20XX_

NIS. The National Institute of Statistics. They were responsible for keeping track of and logging everything from Census data to patents to reports analyzing the alarming rate of obesity. They were highly respected for always being on top of their game, getting things done when they needed to be done. Some claimed it was because the company's C.E.O was a fire-happy boss, while others claimed the Institute had a ridiculous hiring policy that eliminated all but the best. Regardless, it was seen as a clean, orderly place on the outside.

Within the glass walls of the nation's largest skyscraper, however, lay a sight that provoked many a question from anyone who had the privilege of stepping within the boundaries of the nation's most prestigious organization. The NIS had a zany cast of workers comparable to the likes of a circus. An efficient circus, but still a circus.

The crew, while hard workers, were anything but disciplined and orderly. The worst of them all resided on Death Row, known officially as the 22nd floor. Here, it was a shock to anybody who dared to visit that any work ever got done. Nerf guns, spray paint, permanent markers, and bleach were just some of the tools in the arsenal of the Death Row workers. No one went there and left clean. _Especially_ not the inspectors.

Behind the veil of paint and colored smoke that often encased the floor was the person responsible for it all, a man with hair darker than a starless sky and a toothy, chocolate-stained grin. Despite being nearly twenty-seven, he was a six year old at heart. His name?

Ashley Norman Ketchum. Or Ash, as his coworkers called him.

He was the director of the Editing Department, a title he typically replaced with "Boss of Fun". His favorite activities included gluing things shut, putting things in the water to give it an odd smell or color, spray painting the walls, and, according to his boss, scrubbing said walls with a toothbrush and Oxi Clean. (Although, looking back, he was probably being sarcastic about that one.)

His partner-in-crime was the fresh-out-of-college Barry Jonson. Barry was, according to his therapist (who, he reminded me, is only seeing him four times a week now), "an interesting case". Diagnosed with ADHD and a severe case of Irritable Bowel Syndrome, Barry was the oxygen of Ash's schemes. He gave them life... and got the worst of the punishment from the boss when he made one of his surprise appearances in the middle of a paintball war. Being the only person capable of changing hair color with the snap of a finger made him easy to distinguish.

The "Spot Man" of Death Row (against his will) was Maxwell "Max" Collins, the youngest of the inmates. Being only a few months out of high school, Max was a janitor for NIS. He was assigned to floors 20-25, making him a perfect candidate for the position he filled for the inmates. Whenever he saw the C.E.O. heading for Death Row, he was responsible for alerting the inmates as fast as possible so whatever they were doing could be stopped and cleaned up (or covered) before he arrived and caused a "whoopsie". Max was a quiet kid. Smart, but unable to attend college due to his unfortunate financial situation. The only reason he was "Spot Man" was because Ash promised him 2% of his monthly earnings in return.

That was the trio that ran Death Row. Everyone else either participated, either for or against the schemes, or was a bystander just praying for God to send them the winning lottery numbers in the mail.

And who am I? My name is Clemont Walter Schmidt. I'm 26 years old, turning 27 in two days, and I'm one of those bystanders. I've always been a safety nut. When I was in Kindergarten, I actually got put in a time-out because I was "enforcing the rules" too much. People used to call me Safety Schmidt. So, as you can imagine, I am not one to approve much of BANANAS.

I apologize for that. Ash got a hold of my permanent pen.

PANTS

Ugh. Do you see now what ALBERTO I have to deal with? It's insanity.

TWD RCKZ

What does that even mean? Some sort of slang? Ash, please use English.

Idk hw 2 uz english

Ash, please. You're making me look like I have schizophrenia.

Schiz funeh werd

Ash, please. Go back to your spray paint or whatever you were doing over in that cubicle of yours.

Qbikl. Spreh paynt

Hey God?

yo brotha

Got those winning numbers yet?

* * *

 **Good? Bad? Ugly? Let me know what you think! I'm trying to keep this light-hearted. Please, don't leave a flame review or a review claiming how this story would be much better if it were serious. Both types of reviews are completely pointless and a waste of both of our times. Both will also be crumpled up and loaded in the paper gun for future use by the inmates to knock unsuspecting passersby off their bikes.**


	2. Dragon Costumes & Underwear

_Thursday, December 7th, 20XX_

* * *

Heavy steel doors pulled apart to reveal the first of many things that were to contribute to what was just another day on Death Row. Unlike a typical day, however, the bystanders were eager to see what went down. Probably because just the day before, Ash triple-dog-dared Barry to buy a brand new toilet, stick it on the side of the road, and sit on it until someone called the straitjacket patrol or, as Barry's therapist referred to them as, his "friends". He did it... and got fined for "public indecency".

Out of said steel doors came a remarkable sight to behold. Or shield yourself from, depending on how high you were trying to keep your sanity meter before shit hit the fan and you ended up with a mouth full of fecal matter.

Ash, normally dressed in the most formal tuxedo he could find as his own way of mocking the NIS dress policy, had chosen a different garb that was a bit more... foreign? Colorful? Expressive?

Not many words could accurately describe his get-up.

Dressed from head-to-toe in what appeared to be an over-sized Halloween costume one would have found at Goodwill, Ash waltzed into Death Row like nothing about what he was wearing screamed "I have a problem and need to be locked up". The man strolled over to his cubicle and pushed back his dragon head, revealing a face splattered with neon green face paint and hair dyed near the same color.

Barry Jonson, who's hair was dyed an assortment of colors so great a rainbow would've been jealous, swiveled on his office chair so that he was facing his partner-in-crime.

"Woah, man, woah," he said, his voice faintly betraying his fading hangover. "Nice costume. Did ya rip it off an entertainer or somethin'?"

Ash tossed his head, flinging his too-bright-for-the-sun hair out of his eyes. "Nah. Picked it up out of a Dumpster."

"S'plains why the flies're hangin'."

"Don't be ridiculous. I sprayed it with five and a half ounces of Frebreeze. It ain't gonna be attracting any flies."

"Must be seein' things then."

"Damn right you're seein' things again." Ash heaved a great big sigh and fell back into his chair, letting out a bloodcurdling scream mere nanoseconds after he did.

Barry leaped out of his chair, the high-pitched sound reverberating through his alcohol-weakened skull. "What the hell, man!?"

Ash started tugging at something, grunting with the effort it required to work around a bulky dragon costume. He finally pried free whatever it was he was fighting with.

"I sat on my tail."

"Oh." Barry sat back down. "Ya need any ice?"

"You being serious? I don't trust you after the last time I asked for ice and you gave me a bag full of boiling water with an ice cube in it."

"I'm bein' serious. I don't do pranks twice. That just ain't my style."

"Excuse me," came a voice from the cubicle behind Ash's. A fire-red head popped up over the wall. "If you don't mind, I'm trying to work on a report here."

Barry waved her off. "Ah, shut up, ya stupid bitch."

The woman's face turned as red as her hair. "Excuse me!?" She put her arms on the wall of her cubicle and boosted herself up so that she was sitting on said wall. "Did you just call me-"

"-a stupid bitch? Yeah, I did."

"You little-"

The woman got ready to jump off of the wall and give Barry his money's worth when Ash flung a dragon paw at her. "Hold up, hold up. Let's not spill blood over Barry's stupidity."

"Hey!" he protested.

Ash ignored him and went to open his mini-fridge. After a brief hunt for a drink among the pepper spray and fake grenades he had hidden there, he was cracking open a can of Bud Lite and facing the woman again.

"So..."

The woman raised her eyebrows. "So... what?"

Ash licked the foam off from around the opening in the can. "So, are you free tonight?"

The woman nearly fell off the wall.

Ash never took his eyes off of her. "I'm serious." He wiggled his green eyebrows. "My place or your place?"

Her fingers pressed into the bridge of her nose. "I never even answered your first question."

"You don't need to. I can see the desire in your eyes."

"Desire for what? Intimacy with a man in a dragon costume?"

"Hey! I'll have you know that it took me two hours to find this thing, and another half arguing with Randall Jenner about who was going to take it. I worked damn hard for this thing!"

"Anyone who has to work hard to get a dragon costume will be no partner of mine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a report to type." And with that, she was gone.

"Wait!" Ash called after her. "We haven't even talked about the hors d'oeuvres yet! I have shish kabobs!" He rose from his chair and pressed himself against the wall. "I can even dip them in beer!"

"Just give it up, _Ketchum_."

Ash whirled around at that familiar voice, nearly tripping over an unopened box of _Vanity Fair_ magazines as he did so.

"Gary," he spit out the name with as much contempt as a dragon costume-wearing man could muster.

The spiky-haired inmate gave Ash his cheekiest grin, wiggling his eyebrows in mock representation of the Boss of Fun's signature move. "That's right. Gary Oak."

"You forgot the 'motherfucking'," Ash muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," the other man said innocently. He gave him a fake smile so obvious Barry would have picked up on it.

Gary laughed. "Hey, Ashy-boy. I've got a present for you."

The raven-haired man narrowed his eyes, his green mascara displaying itself like Miss Universe as he did so. "Is it your official resignation?"

"No."

"A warrant for your arrest?"

"No."

"Your death certificate?"

"No!" Gary ran a hand through his glamorous hair, sighing as he did so. "Just close your eyes, and I'll show you."

"You aren't gonna pants me, are you?"

"No."

"Kiss me?"

"No."

"Kill me?"

"Just close your eyes!" he snapped, growing impatient.

He closed his eyes.

Barely a second had passed before something slammed into Ash's forehead, knocking him back into his chair. His eyes flew open, only to find that Gary was gone. He felt his forehead, his fingers coming away sticky with fresh ink.

Suspicious, Ash whipped out a mirror that was so conveniently placed right next to his computer. A large REJECTED BY GIRL was stamped in ink across his green forehead. Ash began to fume. If he were a real dragon, steam would have been pouring out of his ears like a locomotive by that point.

 _"Gary Motherfucking Oak!"_

Ash flew out of his chair and started a mad search for the culprit, bursting into cubicles at random and interrupting what was otherwise somewhat of a quiet day for most of the inmates. He even accidentally slammed into May Collins, who was doing her nails and was rather... displeased to find that her brand new shirt had undergone a color change. Scratch that, she was outright furious.

"Ashley Ketchum!" she screamed, slamming her fist down on her desk.

Ash, as was typical of him when he was in a blind rage, heard her but failed to comprehend what she had said. His mind was already filled with raging thoughts of Gary, and everybody knew he didn't have that big of a brain to begin with.

After barging into several more cubicles and knocking over a water cooler, he finally caught up to his nemesis. Gary was standing on top of a file cabinet, sticking his tongue out and making childlike faces at Ash.

"Nah-nah-nah-nah-nah you can't get me!" he spat, laughing hysterically.

"Aw, grow up! That's so second grade!" Ash shot back.

"Oh, I forgot. You're in third grade now." His face twisted into a sneer. "Enjoying the freedom of finally being out of the second grade now? It only took you what? Six years?"

"Gary!" Ash snarled through clenched teeth. He started toward the other man, gripping onto the edge of the file cabinet as he prepared to boost himself up.

"That's right, you little twerp. Show us all the strength you used to win that stuffed animal lifting contest you were in two years ago."

"I was in no such thing!"

"You weren't? My bad. I must have been mistaken. Terribly sorry."

"Thank you."

"It was paper, wasn't it?"

That latest accusation gave Ash the strength he needed to pull himself up onto the file cabinet. He had only a second to marvel at his accomplishment, however, as Gary quickly proceeded to kick him in the nuts and send him flying off of his pedestal.

"Damn it, Gary! Did it have to be the nuts?"

The man laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, Ash. Everyone knows you don't have anything down there."

"I do too!"

"Tsk, tsk." Gary waved his finger at him. "Now, now, Ashley, it isn't right to lie."

"Don't call me Ashley!"

"Why? That's your name, isn't it?"

"I go by Ash, not Ashley!"

"But legally, your name is Ashley. You know, you _can_ change your first name to something different after you turn eighteen. The fact that you haven't changed it tells me that you like the name Ashley."

"I would change it, but Mom would be sad if I did!"

Gary made a pouty face. "Aw, a momma's boy! Isn't that sweet."

Ash, who had gotten to his feet once more, started approaching the file cabinet again. "Watch it, Gary Oak. You're about to get a face full of punch."

"Don't be silly, Ash. I can't fight a girl."

"I'm not a girl!"

"But you're name's Ashley."

"Doesn't mean nothin'!"

"Prove it, then."

Ash stared at him as if he'd announced that he was pregnant. "I can't do that."

"Oh, come on, Ash. It isn't hard. Watch." Gary undid his belt and threw it to the side. His pants fell down at that very moment, revealing pink boxers with tiny hearts on them.

Several of the women that had been observing the fight screamed and shielded their eyes. Barry, who had wandered over to watch, burst out laughing. Ash's face went so red it was almost visible beneath the green paint that coated his face.

As Gary moved to pull his boxers down Ash reacted. He sprinted toward Gary, slamming into the file cabinet with such force that the thing tipped over. Gary yelped as he fell into a cubicle, landing right on top of Serena Aldermort. Ash boosted himself up and over the wall with a burst of strength that surprised even him.

With a cry that would have impressed Tarzan, Ash leapt onto Gary's back. The slightly older man cried out in surprise and anger. He staggered backward until he reached the cubicle wall, at which point he proceeded to slam into it repeatedly. Ash took the blows as they came, refusing to let go.

"Let go, you crazy son of a bitch!" he screamed. "Dammit!"

Growing tired of being slammed into the wall like a two year old's stuffed bear, Ash decided to resort to more extreme measures. Reaching into his dragon costume, he pulled out his wallet. He started beating Gary over the head with it, screaming like an orangutan as he did so.

"Ah!" Gary cried. "What the hell!?"

He started stumbling around again, trying to think of a way to gain some leverage over the wallet-wielding dragon boy. Eventually, the weight of Ash on his back became too much for him, and Gary fell.

Ash quickly turned Gary onto his back and delivered a swift punch, ditching his wallet in favor of a more natural weapon. Gary responded with another blow to Ash's supposedly nonexistent nuts, causing Ash to double over in pain.

Using this distraction to his advantage, Gary wrapped his arms around Ash's neck and put him in a chokehold. Ash started thrashing around like a caged animal, beating on Gary with his hands.

Just as Ash's vision was getting spotty from lack of air, the intercom beeped. Gary immediately let go of Ash, who began sputtering for air. Other than the rather disgusting sounds of Ash inhaling air and saliva, everything was silent.

"Attention, inmates. Attention, inmates." Max's voice rang out over the intercom, loud and clear. "This is a boss alert. I repeat, a boss alert. This is not a drill. Clean up your messes and tidy your hair, because he's coming." The intercom clicked off.

"Shit," Gary muttered. He slipped back into a protesting Serena's cubicle. He chose his hiding spot underneath Serena's desk, promising her some candy and a kiss if she kept quiet.

"Why can't you just go back to your own desk?" she hissed.

"I'm not wearing pants and my cheek's swollen as shit. Now shut up and start thinking of a good excuse in case the boss asks of my whereabouts."

She rolled her eyes but did as he asked.

Ash, on the other hand, wasn't quite as lucky. Just as he was about to get up, a shadow fell over him. Without even having to look, he knew it was the boss.

"Hello, sir," he mumbled.

"Mr. Ketchum." The boss's voice rumbled like the devil's. "Would you care to enlighten me in regards to why you are on the floor and why you are out of dress?"

"Out of _a_ dress," a voice chuckled. "'Cause that's what he belongs in."

Ash glared at the hidden speaker, only to have his attention drawn back to the boss by a loud clearing of his throat.

"I asked you a question, Mr. Ketchum."

Dragon-boy stood up. "I know. I guess I just felt like it."

"You felt like it."

"Yes, sir, I did."

The boss lowered his head, eyes closing. He stayed that way for a count of ten, all eyes glued on him.

"Well then," he said at last. "Allow me to be the dragon slayer."

Ash blinked, confused. "But dragon slayers don't wear suits and ties. They wear armor. And they have swords, too."

Giovanni leaned down so that he was eye-to-eye with his employee. "It's a new trend."

Ash choked as Giovanni grabbed his costume and hauled him to his feet. The much larger and more powerful man dragged the lesser one toward the men's bathroom. Upon arrival, he threw him against the door. "Get changed."

"But I don't wanna-"

" _Now!_ "

He scrambled inside.

The Death Row men's bathroom was not like normal public bathrooms. It used to be, of course, but all that changed when Ash and Barry arrived on the scene. Their shenanigans resulted in the walls and doors of the stalls being removed, the sinks being replaced with hand pumps, soap containers being bolted down, and last but not least the toilet paper being removed. All in all, most of the men weren't too pleased about the changes.

There were also racks of dress shirts, suits, ties, socks, and shoes for people like Ash who broke the dress code. Sighing, the man stripped down to his underwear (which by the way was covered with tiny dragons) and took the necessary items from the racks.

He was just pulling his socks on when a few snickers came from behind him, followed by the sound of camera shutters. Ash whirled around, only to find a group of guys laughing and taking pictures with an iPhone.

The man turned beet red as more pictures were taken. Of course, the photographer turned out to be none other than Gary. His rival was nearly out of breath from laughing so hard as he pointed and said,

"See? I told you he didn't have anything down there."

Ash snarled as the other men laughed. "I do too!"

"Oh really? Then show us!"

"Yeah!" another inmate agreed. "Show us!"

"Hell no!"

"Well, then I guess that's proof enough in itself right there." A smug look crossed Gary's face. "Why don't you pack up your things and head over to where you belong, _Ashley._ "

Ashley Norman Ketchum suddenly looked confused. "Where's that?"

"The girl's restroom, of course."

"I do not belong there!"

"So then where do you belong? The zoo? You certainly don't look hairy enough to be an ape, but you might make it in."

"Gary!"

The other men snickered.

Gary shrugged his wide shoulders. "Your parents and the doctor are really the only people to have ever seen you in the full, so obviously you must be a girl in disguise. Your parents knew that, so that's why they named you Ashley. But they always wanted a son, so they raised you to believe you were a boy and told you that your lack of man parts was a unique disorder that no other man on the planet had."

"What the hell kind of theory is that!?"

"A true one. I bet if I called your mother up right now, she'd agree with my theory. She'd explain everything to me. How they wanted a boy but got a girl instead, so they decided to improvise. You know, Ashley, I honestly feel bad for you. Growing up believing that you're something you're not must be awful. Well, thankfully I'm around to end your suffering. From this day onward, you will no longer be bound by your parents' lies, all because of me, the great and flawless Gary Pepe-"

He was cut off as someone smacked him over the head with a chair from behind. The arrogant man slumped to the floor.

Barry stepped out from the crowd and examined his victim. "All right, a K.O.!" he cried, pumping his fist.

And that was the end of that.

* * *

Alright... I've got a break. They're at lunch. No one to mess me up. I just wanted to say that some of this was based off of what other people told me, and not firsthand experience. So don't cite me if you're writing a research paper, okay? Thank you so much to everyone who has read this so far. I know you all have your doubts about it, and I don't blame you. Some of you even think this is a work of fiction, with my intention being to write a comical piece of art. But I tell you, everything you're reading is true. All of it. It's not meant to humor you. I'm glad that it is, since I believe that a bit of laughter is necessary for a healthy life. But this is meant to be a warning. A warning to stay away from here. Unless you want to lose your sanity, that is.

They're coming back now... I've got to go. Put this in a safe place so no one can find it and ruin it. I'll type it up later.

Wish me luck, guys.


	3. Baritone & Nerf Fights

_Friday, January 2, 20XX_

* * *

"Hi, Baritone! How's your day been, sweetie pie?"

A huge blush crept across Barry's face as his mom answered his Skype call. Next to him, Ash shoved a fist into his mouth to keep himself from laughing.

"I'm fine," Barry spluttered.

"How are your counseling sessions going? You haven't had a cherry bomb lately, have you?"

"No, mom."

"How's work?"

"Fine."

An exasperated sigh came from the other side of the screen. "Honestly, Baritone, all I get from you is 'fine'. Never anything else."

"Mom, can you please stop calling me Baritone? It's embarrassing."

"Why, sweetie? I thought you liked your name! Why, I can remember when you were six years old and crocheted a sweater with your name on it!"

At that, Ash burst out laughing. Barry glared at him before answering his mother.

"Mom! People can hear you!"

"Oh, I almost forgot about your friends! How's Ash? Do you think he'd like me to send him a picture of your sweater?"

"No!"

"But-"

"Goodbye Mom!" Barry grabbed the mouse and clicked the "end call" button.

Ash punched his shoulder. "Aw, come on, Baritone, don't be so rude to your Mommy!"

Barry glared at him. "Knock it off."

"But Baritone, I bet it was cute! Do you still crochet sweaters, or have you moved up to the big boy stuff now?"

"Ash, knock it off."

"Is that why you have to go to therapy so many times a week? Because you're going through crochet withdrawal?"

Barry slammed his fists down on the armrests of his chair. "That's it. I'm outta here."

He started to walk away, but Ash followed him. "Can you give me some tips? Teach me the proper strokes and everything?"

Barry ignored him.

"Aw, come on, please?"

"No."

"Come on, please?"

"No!"

"Come on, please?"

"Argh!" Barry's hands flew in the air. He whirled around to face Ash. "Just because I crocheted something once doesn't mean I still crochet!"

Iris, who had been getting herself a cup of coffee at the break station, looked at him. "You crochet, Barry?"

"No! I don't crochet!"

"Yes, he does." Ash stepped up to stand next to Barry. "He crocheted a sweater with his name on it."

Iris laughed. "What a little kid." She walked away, and Barry turned a deep shade of purple.

"Ash Ketchum."

Ash looked at him. "What, Baritone Tenor Jonson?"

"First of all, my middle name ain't Tenor. Second of all, don't call me Baritone. And third of all, _why the hell would you tell Iris that!?"_

Ash shrugged. "She asked, so I told you the truth." He pushed his nose up with a finger. "I ain't a lying bastard like you."

"I'm not a bastard!"

"Anyone who lies is a bastard."

"Then you're way more of a bastard than I am, because you lie way more than I do!"

"At least I don't have therapy sessions!"

Barry's hand formed a fist then. "Don't get arrogant with me, Ash."

"Why? Afraid I'll tell the whole world your little secret?"

"It's not a secret! I don't even do it anymore!"

Barry walked up to the break station and poured himself a cup of coffee. "I don't crochet, I don't like to be called Baritone, and I hate it when you don't listen to me."

"And I think you're a liar."

Barry was fuming now. Turning around, he stepped up close to Ash. "Merry Christmas, Ash."

And with that, he dumped his whole cup of coffee on top of Ash's head, ruining his brand new purple suit.

He walked away, leaving Ash steaming in just the same way the coffee was. Angry now, he stormed over to his cubicle. Cracking open his safe, he rummaged inside.

"Time to bring out the big boy," he muttered. A moment later he pulled it out. The champion. The hero. The king to rule all kings.

The Nerf Retaliator.

Ash climbed up onto his desk and peeked over the wall of his cubicle. Barry was sitting at his desk, lazily clicking around on the internet. Ash moistened his lips, eager to start this off.

He fired his first dart.

The dart hit Barry square in the ear, surprising him so much that he tipped out of his chair, falling on his recently-arrived order of gas bubble underwear. The moment he spotted Ash's Nerf gun, he sprang into action.

Tearing down a pile of dirty laundry, he uncovered a Vulcan EBF-25, already set up on its tripod. He immediately began firing at Ash, who ducked and took cover behind the cubicle wall.

"Motherfucker," he hissed. He hadn't known that Barry had taken the time to buy such a highly prized Nerf gun.

Ash attempted to duck around the corner and shoot at Barry, but Barry was faster. A rain of darts showered down upon Ash, one of them sticking to his nose. Chuckling a bit at the humor of a dart getting stuck to his nose, he peeled it off and loaded it into his Retaliator.

Ash then made a quick dart to the cubicle across from his- which just so happened to be my own. I immediately took cover as Ash began firing at a now-visible Barry. Barry whipped out a Maverick REV-6 and started firing at Ash, who darted toward him. Diving down, Ash grabbed Barry's legs and pulled him to the ground. Grabbing his Nerf gun, Ash started wrestling with him for control over it. They both rolled around on the floor, kicking and screaming.

Barry bit Ash's arm, which led to Ash letting go of him. Barry rolled away and proceeded to jump on a cart. As Ash stood up, Barry put his Nerf gun right against Ash's forehead.

He laughed a little. "Woah, man, woah." He held up his hands. "No need to get serious."

"You fired on me first," he hissed.

"Yeah, man, but we're friends! You wouldn't fire on your friend, would you?"

"I would if he betrayed me."

"I didn't betray you. I was just teasing, man. Playing around."

"It wasn't like that for me."

"But was it so bad as to warrant you threatening my very life? Do you really want blood on your hands, Barry?"

Barry's hand faltered. "No."

"Then lower your gun."

He went to do as his friend asked, only to stop. "I can't."

"Why?"

His hand was shaking now. "I-I..."

"Come on, Barry," Ash urged him. "I'm sorry about what happened. I truly am."

Barry hesitated.

"Come on. You can trust me."

He lowered his gun.

Smiling, Ash stepped closer to him. The two of them studied each other for a few moments before Ash said something.

"Fool."

Before Barry could react, Ash grabbed his gun and disarmed him. He started running down the corridor, triumphantly crying like a madman. Barry chased after him, shrieking.

Ash burst into the men's bathroom, where he proceeded to hide in the corner, next to a urinal. When Barry came in, looking around frantically, Ash jumped for him. He grabbed him and dragged him across the tile floor before sticking his head in one of the toilets.

"Ever heard of a Swirlie?"

"Yes," he spluttered.

Ash smirked. "Good."

He flushed the toilet.

Satisfied, Ash started walking away. However, Barry recovered more quickly than Ash predicted, and grabbed him from behind. Ash screamed as Barry wrestled the gun from him. As Ash turned around, Barry fired a dart and hit him square in the head. Ash fell to the floor.

And that's where they found him two hours later, his mouth hanging open. A line of drool trailed down his chin.

Misty nudged him with a foot. "Why is he still here?"

May shrugged. "I guess he thinks he's dead."

Misty shook her head. "What an idiot."

May nodded in agreement. "Yeah, totally. What kind of person thinks that a Nerf dart can kill?"

"Ash, apparently. If he were standing, I'd kick him in the balls for being so dumb."

"Was he always like that? Even when you were kids?"

Misty nodded. "Yep. Always. It's always been so annoying, too. But... it's also strangely rewarding."

"Rewarding?" May echoed. She stared at her friend like she was nuts. "But... How?"

Misty looked up at the flickering men's bathroom lights. "It's just insanely satisfying to see him do all these stupid things, only to get what comes to him when the boss shows up."

May shrugged. "I think Barry better refer you to his therapist, because you've gone cray-cray."

Misty punched her lightly in the shoulder. "Yeah, right. Come on, May. Let's get out of here and leave ditz-o here to play his little game."

As soon as the two girls left, Ash sat up and yawned. He looked around, confused. He pressed his fingers against his head, clearly trying to stimulate the gears to get moving. If brains could smoke, Ash's would be on fire.

After two very long minutes spent carrying out the exhausting process of thinking, Ash finally remembered why he was there. Laughing, he pulled off the dart that was stuck to his forehead. He examined it for a few moments before pulling off the suction cup. He then put the remaining foam tube in his mouth and walked out.

Now, if this were a normal office, Ash would have gotten many a stare from his co-workers. But by this point, everyone was accustomed to seeing things out of the ordinary. So it was of no surprise to them that Ash was walking around with a piece of foam sticking out of his mouth. What was more of a surprise was that he had actually gotten over his supposed death (a.k.a. his nap) and was now proceeding with his day as usual.

As he passed by Barry at the break station, he was sure to reach into the other man's pants, grab his underwear, and yank. Barry yelped at the resulting wedgie, and shot a death glare Ash's way. Several of the other workers present snickered, and Barry turned a deep shade of purple for the billionth time that day. Ash snickered as he went into his cubicle and sat down at his desk.

Three hours of porn, a wine break, and ten minutes of peek-a-boo later, and the day was over.

* * *

Okay, so I stayed late to type this up on my blog. I just wanted to say that I hope you all will continue sticking with me through this. I'll write as much as I can, but I can only do it until one of them finds it... I'm hoping I'll be able to give you guys at least ten more blog posts, but I don't know. I came close to having this discovered today. Managed to click out of it just in time. Of course, I got accused of looking at porn, but whatever. It's not like Ash never does it. I'd like to extend a huge thank-you to everyone who has viewed this crazy story so far. And also, I'd like to personally thank one of my readers for informing me that he is okay with my postings. It really makes me feel better about exposing you all to the crazy antics of the NIS. Thank you, and God Bless. Until next time,

\- Clemont98


	4. The Vending Machine & Water Tricks

_Tuesday, March 6, 20XX_

* * *

Ash Ketchum raised his feet up onto his desk, popping open a can of cool Bud Li- er, Coke. He lazily clicked through page after page of a website dedicated to listing off the most random (but useful) items on the internet. Just recently, Ash had purchased a hand clapper through them that was now proudly displayed on his wall.

The PA dinged on, and Max's voice came through.

 _"Attention staff. The mail has arrived, and-"_

He needn't say any more, for everyone was already piling out of their cubicles and racing to the elevator.

The local delivery man really hated coming up to Death Row. The people here scared him more than his wife's meatloaf. On one side, there were normal people, mostly girls. On the other, there were the maniacs. Why, just last week one of them had shaken a bottle of Pepsi and opened it on him as he came in, proceeding afterwards to run away laughing. What was even stranger, however, was that he was wearing a full-blown gorilla suit.

The man handed out the small packages first.

"Aw, yeah!" cried the blonde kid they called Barry. He was in the process of ripping open his first package. "My scented underwear!" He pumped his fist. "Now I can fart in peace!"

The man gave him a strange look, but no one else commented. Truth be told, they were all used to these things by now.

Eager to leave, the man pulled out the super-size package that was addressed to a Mr. Ash Ketchum. The offender came forward immediately, embracing the cardboard package in a tight embrace.

Tears pricked the back of his eyes. "It's here!" he whimpered. "It's finally here! Oh baby, I've been waiting for you..."

The man walked away.

Producing a knife that someone of his sanity level should not have, he sliced open the package. There, in all of its glory, was a vending machine. It had cost him all of his monthly allowance, but it was so totally worth it. For, embedded deep within the recesses of the beautiful creature, lay a wide assortment of coffees, energy drinks, and protein shakes.

In other words, it contained everything necessary to start a wild party.

Grinning like the maniac he was, he pushed it over against a wall and plugged it in. The machine roared to life, the interior lighting up in glorious fashion. The white fluorescent light descended down upon the many cans and bottles, making them sparkle in a rather godly way.

Immediately, Ash took out a dollar and jammed it in the machine. Pressing a button, he bounced up and down in anticipation as a can of Starbucks coffee tumbled down into the receiving area. He scooped it up with one large hand and cracked it open. Raising the decorated metal to his lips, he took a big suck of caffeine.

"Ooh, ooh, ooh! Lemme try, lemme try!" Barry bounced over and tried to jam a quarter up the dollar slot. He kept poking at it, a confused expression furrowing his brow. "It won't work!"

Ash kicked him in the ass. "Ape. You gotta put it in the quarter slot."

"Oh." He tried the only other opening in the machine. The vending machine accepted the quarter, along with three others. Barry ran over each of the buttons at a painstakingly slow pace, as if savoring the very feel of them.

"You gonna pick, or are you gonna keep feelin' them like they're a woman?" Ash snapped.

"I'm goin', I'm goin'," he snapped. He slammed his pointer finger down on the button for a Red Bull. A loud crack met his finger, making Ash's eyes go wide with horror.

"You broke it!"

"Did not!" he insisted as a big red can fell into his anxious grasp.

Ash walked over to the machine. Sure enough, the Red Bull button had a big crack in it, and the light behind it was dim. Just to test it, he jammed another dollar in the slot and tried that button. Even after five presses, a curse, and some coffee, it didn't work.

Ash spun on his heel to face his sidekick. "You monster! You broke my machine!"

He put his hands up in mock defeat. "Oh, my bad. I forgot that you cared so much about a drink you don't even like."

"I love Bulls!"

"Since when!?"

"Since now!" Ash smashed his coffee can over Barry's head so hard the can bent at the center. Coffee splattered everywhere, going on both Ash and Barry as well as streaking across the glass front of the vending machine.

Barry looked rather disoriented for a few moments before he started laughing. Hard.

"What the fuck!?" Ash demanded. "What is so funny about getting a coffee can smashed over your head?"

He pointed a finger at Ash's pants. Between the laughs, he managed, "You look like you just shit your pants!"

The raven-haired man looked down. Sure enough, his pants were soaked in brown fluid. He felt his cheeks go red as several other passersby started snickering.

Furious, Ash poked the button for another Starbucks coffee. As soon as it presented itself, he cracked it open and splattered its contents all over Barry's southern half. The thick brown liquid seeped through his pants, making him shudder as its coolness touched his skin.

"Hey!" he protested. "That was a dick move!"

Ash tossed the empty can to the side. "No, it was karma. Karma is brutal, man. It's just like that time you put lipstick on me while I slept, so I broadcasted your next shit over the P.A. system."

"That was a one-time thing!"

"Karma is never just one time, man." The Boss of Fun started to walk away.

Barry charged after him, still holding his Red Bull can. He shook it several times before opening it. As he was still shaking it when he opened it, its liquefied contents sprayed everywhere. People screamed as they were suddenly covered with the energy drink. A deep voice spat out a curse as their latest report, fresh out of the printer, was destroyed by the Bull.

"Oh, sorry!" Barry called over the wall of the man's cubicle. "I didn't mean to ruin your latest collection of porn!" Snickering, he ducked out of range just in time to avoid getting hit in the head with a vase.

During that small confrontation, Ash managed to get back in his cubicle. He pulled out a jar of Mayonnaise and sat down in his chair, scooping it out with a great big spoon. By the time Barry reached him, it looked as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Ash looked at him innocently. "Hey Baritone."

He turned beet red. "For the last time, knock off that name! I hate it!"

"Then why don't you change it?"

"We've been over this! I don't want to make Mommy mad."

He laughed. "Okay, then. Want some mayonnaise?"

He blinked. "To eat or to play?"

The other man rolled his eyes. "We've been over this, Barry. Only the mayonnaise from the break room is acceptable to play. This stuff is golden, and golden mayonnaise must be eaten."

"Is it acceptable to throw?"

Blinking, Ash scooped up a big hunk of white, creamy goodness. Staring at it for several moments, he eventually brought his arm back and flicked his wrist, sending the lump of condiment barreling toward Barry's face at a breakneck pace.

Blondie nearly fell over as it made bullseye contact with the center of his forehead. He made a loud grunting noise, before reaching up and dabbing his pointer finger in it. Grinning, he licked it experimentally before sticking the whole thing in.

Ash swirled his spoon around in the mayo. "Seems acceptable enough."

Barry opened the cubicle door and stepped inside. Upon seeing that Ash's back was to his mini fridge, he opened it up. Inside the little refrigerated box were several cans of beer, a Monster Energy drink, a hunk of cheese, and... a thong?

Taking the Monster, Barry carefully and quietly closed the fridge. Tiptoeing over to Ash's chair, he tapped his shoulder. "Ash?" he asked innocently.

The bigger man didn't turn around. His face was directed at his lap, which was still soaking in a mixture of coffee and something else Barry didn't want to know the origins of.

"I have a present for you." His voice was oddly high-pitched as he said this, quietly cracking open the tall can in his hands. As Ash began to turn around, he got ready to spray his friend with the drink.

He nearly jumped out of his birthday suit when he saw the horrifying face that suddenly presented itself to him. It was white, with a black skull pattern imprinted into it. Big yellow eyes gawked terrifyingly at Barry, their tiny black pupils studying him quizzically.

"Jesus Christ!" he screamed. "Ash, what happened to your face!? Oh my God, somebody call a priest! He's been possessed!" He started running around frantically, drawing the attention of the one person in the area who bothered to care about the two men's constant antics.

The demonic Ash suddenly started laughing. Barry stopped, confused. He felt anger overtake him as Ash reached up and pushed up the face, revealing his own, normal one behind it.

"It's just a mask, stupid!" he laughed.

Barry stared at him incredulously. "Dude, not funny! I totally thought something bad had happened to ya!"

"Yeah, like there are any demons around here who would want to possess me." He puffed out his chest. "I'm too special."

He snorted. "Yeah, right."

"What's that supposed to mean!?"

"It means you're no more special than me."

"Oh really? Who's the Boss around here?"

Barry deflated. "You."

"Exactly." Ash stood up and pointed toward the open entranceway. "Now, servant, go and get me a cup of warm water."

Barry did so without protest. Ash waited, foot tapping, until he came back with a small Dixie cup half-full of water. Ash tested it briefly, satisfied to find it warm as he had asked. "Now, apprentice," he said. "Come with me, and I'll show you just how this is done." With that, he padded out of his cubicle. Barry followed obediently.

Ash looked through each and every cubicle, hunting down one type of person in particular. He finally found that person in Cilan, a relatively new worker that had just been moved up to Death Row. He had fallen asleep on his keyboard, causing strings of random letters to appear on his Word document. Both Ash and Barry snickered at the fact that he had what appeared to be over five hundred pages of pointless digital mumbling.

Ash motioned with one finger for Barry to be quiet. Carefully, he set the tiny cup down on Cilan's desk. Lifting the sleeping man's hand, he placed as many fingers as he could in the water.

Suddenly, Cilan's eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright in his chair, his hands moving toward his pants. His cheeks turned a deep red when he saw that Ash and Barry were right there. He glanced down at his soaking wet jeans, then back up at them.

Both men were doubling over laughing. Ash pointed at Cilan and said, "Looks like someone had a wee bit of an accident, hm? Oh wait- he _did_ have a wee accident!"

Barry had to lean against the wall to support himself. "Maybe I ought'a give him my new underwear! He's gonna need it!"

"Naw, he's gonna need some Depends, makin' that big of a mess!"

Cilan ran out, tears of embarrassment streaming down his face. Ash managed to snap a picture with his iPhone, which he proceeded to upload to his Instagram account.

* * *

That's all that really happened today. I know I haven't blogged in a while, so I thought it proper to put this up. I'm sorry for being away, but Ash destroyed my computer with his water gun a while back, so I wasn't able to update until then. Plus, I've been super busy catching up on missed work. But, no more excuses. I'm back with another blog update, and I hope you guys continue to enjoy it. I know this blog doesn't get a lot of traffic, but that's okay. If I can help at least one person stay away from this place, then my mission is complete. Until next time,

\- Clemont98


End file.
